I realize that I've already posted on the gloriousness that is spring. But really, I'm just not getting over it.
I'm originally from the Pacific Northwest. I grew up being very comfortable with a limited number of seasons and a lot of rainy, grey days. And for years after I moved to the Northeast I continued not to think much about the seasons--yeah, I hated the bitterest parts of the winter and the disgusting parts of the summer, and I was happy when each ended, but I didn't have a strong emotional or physiological reaction to seasonal changes and I coped quite well during dismal grey Novembers and late Februaries.
In about my sixth year out east, though, all that abruptly changed. I still recall that April, and the period in which my coworkers and I would go out for lunch every single day and sit in the sun in view of the Brooklyn Bridge. That's all we did: sit in the sun, barely talking. And it was that April--when I'd find myself smiling insanely every time I stepped outside--that I realized: this is what spring fever is all about!
I think my response to spring has grown more extreme every year, and this early time change isn't reducing the effects any.
Effect one: a newfound interest in my wardrobe. Now, I love clothes year-round, and I particularly love the way that each seasonal change gives me the illusion of an entirely new wardrobe, but lately I've been assembling ever-new and increasingly flamboyant outfits. Several days ago I showed up at the office in what I can only describe as some kind of demented homage to the Technicolor 1950s: knee-lenth black skirt topped with a fuschia sweater, fake pearls, patent-leather peep-toe pumps, and a teal brocade coat. When I walked into the department, my chair exclaimed, "Flavia! Did you just step out of a musical? You look like you're about to burst into song!" (And I was all, dude. I am about to burst into song. It's sunny and 60 degrees today and I'm BARE LEGGED for the first time in six months.)
Effect two: a weird compulsion toward physical activity. As those who know me in real life know, I am not a worker-out. (This isn't a matter of principle, but merely of practicality: I've been essentially the same size and shape for 10 years without working out--and if I were to start a gym routine, when the hell would I find time to blog?) For the last week, though, I've been doing something aerobic for 20 or 30 minutes, virtually every day. What's up with that?
Effect three: a complete lack of interest in prepping for my classes. To be honest, I'm not sure that this is spring-related, but it's convenient to think so.